Blessing In Disguise
by Dreigiau
Summary: There is nothing that a Holmes can't do, given the proper instruction. As such, it's not that Mycroft ican't/i swim, he has simply never had the opportunity, nor the inclination, to learn. Enter Greg Lestrade, an upper sixth student who attends Mycroft's private school on a swimming scholarship. A Teenlock written for the Winter Mystrade Exchange.
1. Chapter 1

The sound echoing around the pool was headache inducing, and Mycroft kept his focus firmly on the book in his hands as he sat in the stands at the side. Years of practice had made him particularly good at blocking out the shouting that served as background noise. Sherlock ensured that there was always plenty to ignore at home, particularly when his friend, John Watson, came to visit. Sports was one of the few areas in which Mycroft did not excel, so he did his best to avoid it.

"What's the excuse this time, Holmes?" Mycroft looked up from his book and at the man who had spoken. Mr. Jacobs was in his early fifties and on his third, failing marriage. In Mycroft's opinion, he had no right to teach anyone about being fit and healthy, between his ever growing waistline, the fact that he drank too much and the nicotine stains on his fingers which suggested that he smoked at least twenty a day.

"I do not swim," Mycroft replied cooly.

"Can't swim?" Mr. Jacobs' voice was rather louder than Mycroft thought the situation called for. He stomped off before Mycroft could inform him that there was nothing that he couldn't do, given the right instruction and time to practice.

"He didn't mean it, did he?" The new voice startled Mycroft, and he snapped his head around so quickly that he was sure he must have strained something in his neck. A boy from his year leant against the rails which separated the poolside from the stands. Mycroft recognised his face, though he could not recall that they had ever had a conversation. "When he said you can't swim," the other boy clarified.

"I do not doubt that I could," Mycroft replied immediately, drawing himself up. "I have simply never received the proper instruction."

"No one ever taught you?" the boy asked incredulously. "Well, if you ever want the proper instruction, the school pool's free four 'til six of an evening. I swim four to five. Swing by with your trunks after, I'll teach you." He grinned, turned away, and sauntered back to the side of the pool, where the rest of the boys from their year had gathered to begin the P.E. Lesson. After taking a moment to study, and perhaps appreciate, everything from the messy dark brown hair to the toned, swimmer's physique, Mycroft resolutely returned his attention to his book.

It took until the end of the week for Mycroft to muster the courage to turn up at the pool. Newly purchased, baggy swim trunks and a t-shirt sat in the bottom of his school bag, wrapped in a towel. He arrived at ten minutes to five to find the other boy swimming lengths in the otherwise deserted pool. He made the movement through the water look effortless, alternating each length between breast stroke and front crawl.

At five o'clock precisely the boy hauled himself out of the pool at the shallow end, shaking water out of his hair as he stood, and Mycroft realised that he had been standing and watching for ten minutes.

"You came!" Mycroft could not fathom the reason for the pleased tone of the comment, but he smiled in reply. "Go get your trunks on, then. Bring your towel out with you."

Mycroft emerged from the changing rooms a few minutes later in his trunks and shirt. His general distaste for sport had had, he was aware, consequence. He was not keen on sharing the vulnerability he felt over it with anyone, even at the near-deserted pool.

He hooked his towel over the rails by the poolside, turning and finding the other boy already in the water. The smell of pool chemicals tickled the back of his throat, something constricted in his chest, and Mycroft was suddenly certain that he had made a horrible mistake in turning up at all. Still, he had his pride.

"We never did introductions," the boy said, standing in the water. Mycroft was somewhat calmed to see that it rose only to his hips. "I'm Greg Lestrade."

"Mycroft Holmes," Mycroft murmured in reply.

"Holmes? Not Sherlock's brother?" Greg asked.

Mycroft was not fond of being immediately linked to his younger sibling, but nodded.

"He's a genius. A prick, mind, but a smart one," Greg said. "Old Mr. Dean's got him tutoring me in Biology, one lunch a week. Well, I say tutoring, he spends most of the time muttering about how idiotic I am and how unfair it is that he has detention." Greg's laugh as he finished speaking was light, a rare reaction to Sherlock.

"Sherlock can be troublesome," Mycroft replied, and Greg laughed again.

"Nah, he's a good enough kid. I'm up fifteen percent in Biology tests, anyway." He shrugged. "Anyway, let's get you in the water."

Mycroft froze. He willed his legs to carry him towards the water, but they would not. His vision blurred, and he could feel his heart thundering in his chest as an adrenaline spike tore through his body. When he managed to refocus, Greg was out of the pool and standing beside him with a hand on his arm.

"Come sit down, you've got white as a sheet," Greg suggested. Mycroft let himself be led to the edge of the pool, sitting down carefully. After some gentle coaxing he dangled his legs into the water. "So," Greg prompted after a few moments. "Are we going to talk about that first?"

"It is not important," Mycroft replied, trying to wave away the concern.

"Very important, actually," Greg told him, folding his arms. "If it makes you react like that, I need to know about it. Otherwise it's not safe for you to be in the pool."

"When I was five I was near drowned while on holiday. I have had an aversion to water of depth since, and avoided swimming."

"Well, I promise not to let you drown. Not ever close," Greg told him. "I've done my lifeguard training, and been swimming since I can remember. So I promise you're safe. Let's start with getting you into the water, yeah? It's shallow at this end." He patted Mycroft's shoulder gently, waiting for a nod before gesturing to the pool. "You've got two easy ways to get into the water. Forward." He used his arms to take his weight on the edge of the pool. With a quick, effortless thrust of his hips he slid into the water. A moment later he pulled himself out again, sitting beside Mycroft once more. "Or, there's how we teach the kids." He crossed his right arm over his body, using it to brace himself as he twisted and slipped into the water. He finished facing the side of the pool and Mycroft. "Your turn."

"Greg, I-" Mycroft cut himself off, gripping tightly to the edge of the pool.

"You're fine, I promise. It's not deep, you can stand in it easily. And I've got you," Greg said, his voice calm and soothing. Mycroft took a few slow, deep breaths, relaxing his hold on the pool ledge slightly. Greg's arms were lifted out of the water, half extended to where Mycroft sat. Mycroft gritted his teeth, forcing down the slight panic that tried to rise in his chest. He did his best to copy Greg's easy slide into the water, though he could tell that it did not look anywhere near as natural as it had for the other teen.

His eyes were closed when his feet hit the bottom of the pool, his hands still gripping the side behind him loosely. He released his grip, bringing his hands to his sides and holding them above the water.

"Not so bad, yeah?" Greg asked, stepping back in the water and gesturing for Mycroft to follow him. "It doesn't get much deeper until the middle."

"This is tolerable," Mycroft agreed, moving carefully after Greg. They stopped a few feet from the edge, a small expanse of clear water between them. Greg bent his knees, crouching so that he was in the water up to his shoulders.

"We're going to start with the worst part," Greg told him. "Okay?" Mycroft nodded hesitantly, wrapping his arms around his waist as he waited for Greg to continue. "I'll go first, then we'll take you through, slowly." He took a deep breath, then ducked his head under the water for a few long seconds. Mycroft's breath caught in sympathy, and he found himself unable to inhale until Greg's head appeared above the water again.

"Is that entirely necessary?" Mycroft asked as soon as Greg resurfaced.

"Yup. You've got to get used to being in the water, and part of that is getting your face and head wet. Deep breath, it's only for a few seconds. Come down here, first." Mycroft slowly bent his knees, bringing himself down in the water to the same level as Greg, the water lapping at his neck. "Talk to me, let me know if any of it's too much, yeah?"

"I am unsure about this," Mycroft told him immediately. Greg nodded, smiling softly.

"That's normal. I'm right here, Mycroft, and you can still stand up in the water. I'll come down with you." Mycroft started as Greg's hand found his wrist, fingers wrapping gently around it. He inhaled deeply at the same time as the other teen, before ignoring the frantic beating of his heart and the white noise in his ears as he ducked under the water.

The hand around his wrist squeezed gently in encouragement, and Mycroft held himself still for the count of five. He straightened his legs, pushing up and out of the water and gasping for a new breath. He used his free hand to wipe the water out of his eyes, unable to stop himself from returning the grin on Greg's face.

"Hardest part of the whole thing, I promise," Greg said, letting go of his wrist. "I've got to go, but next time we'll do floating and doggy paddle. Something inelegant, but it's where we all start." He paused, considering Mycroft for a moment. "You are going to come back, yeah?"

"I have a free afternoon tomorrow," Mycroft replied, following Greg to the edge of the pool and copying the way in which the other boy pulled himself out of the water.


	2. Chapter 2

They met two evenings a week, every week, for the following two months. Mycroft would turn up shortly before Greg finished his hour in the pool. By the time the other teen finished his lengths, Mycroft would be in his swimming kit, slipping into the shallow end. They began, as Greg had promised, with doggy paddle. Mycroft took to the simple movements quickly, and over the following sessions they covered floating, extending the amount of time that Mycroft was comfortable under the water, sculling and finally, front crawl.

The pool was quiet. Greg and Mycroft were the only ones present, as usual, as Mycroft struggled his way through the last few meters of his first length. Mycroft's hand hit the side and he pulled himself towards it with a triumphant shout. Greg slid to a stop beside him, grinning widely.

"Told you you were ready," Greg said, leaning against the side of the pool as Mycroft caught his breath.

"I was rather slow," Mycroft replied. Greg shook his head, elbowing the other boy in the side with a fond smile.

"Oh hush. You still did it. Speed will come come practice, you'll get there."

Mycroft dipped his head almost shyly, shrugging, and Greg rolled his eyes. He nudged Mycroft again, this time staying pressed against the other boy's side. "You can't be brilliant at everything straight away, you know," he said.

"Not a sentiment that I have often heard," Mycroft admitted.

"Yeah well, maybe it should be. Come on, one more length and we'll call it an evening." Greg pulled himself out of the pool, waiting for Mycroft to follow him to the deep end so that they could go again.

Mycroft struggled his way through one more length of messy front crawl. As he reached the side, Greg hooked an arm under his armpit and another under his knees. Mycroft shouted in surprises as Greg lifted him, clinging the other boy's shoulders and kicking uselessly as he spun them both.

"Put me down!" Mycroft insisted, but he was laughing as he clutched at Greg. The other boy stopped spinning, lowering Mycroft back into the water slightly and loosening his grip. While he kept hold, he left it loose enough that Mycroft could slip free if he wanted to. Their giggles died down, and Mycroft felt his breath catch as Greg looked up at him, leaning forward slightly.

"Greg, you still here?" Mycroft leapt out of Greg's arms at he voice, making his way back to the side of the pool and pulling himself out. He grabbed his towel from the side, almost sprinting out towards the changing rooms. He pushed past the person who had called for Greg without a word.

Greg sighed, sinking down into the water until his nose was only just above it.

"Greg?" Michael Dimmock had paused at the edge of the pool, an eyebrow raised. "Was that Mycroft Holmes?"

"Yeah," Greg agreed, pulling himself out of the pool and shaking the water from his hair. "He wanted to learn how to swim. Did you want something, Dimmo?"

"I'm giving you a lift home, unless you changed your mind," the other teenager replied.

"Right, course. Give me two minutes to get changed and I'll be ready to go."

Greg pushed the doorbell to the Holmes house briefly, taking a step back as he waited for an answer. The door opened to a scowling Sherlock, who looked him up and down once.

"I do not have any inclination to tutor you outside of the required lunch hour," he said, going to shut the door. Greg got his foot in the way, wincing as the door hit it hard before shaking his head.

"I'm not here for you, or Biology. Is your brother in?" Sherlock sighed loudly, stepping back from the door to let Greg in.

"Wait here," he ordered, retreating into the house. "Mycroft, door!" Greg heard him shout a moment later. He did not return, and Greg was left standing in the hall alone.

Footsteps tapped down the stairs, and Mycroft stepped through into the hall, pausing when he saw Greg.

"Greg," he greeted hesitantly, one hand on the banister as though he were considering fleeing.

"Hey," Greg replied. "Could we talk?"

"Certainly." Mycroft paused a moment, then seemed to snap back to himself. "Do come through to the kitchen."

Greg followed him through the house, settling at the breakfast bar as Mycroft moved around the kitchen, making a pot of tea and setting out cups, milk and sugar.

"What is it that you wished to talk about?" Mycroft asked as he poured tea. Greg accepted the mug with a smile, considering for a moment.

"I just wanted to check everything was okay, really. You haven't been at the pool the past couple of weeks."

"I did not think that you would wish to continue our lessons," Mycroft replied, avoiding looking up at Greg by staring down into his cup of tea.

"Why's that, then?" Greg asked quietly, reaching for the sugar bowl.

Before Mycroft could reply the kitchen door opened, and Sherlock stepped into the room, John Watson trotting in behind him. They paused in the doorway, Sherlock considering the scene before sighing loudly once again. He muttered something under his breath which made John giggle before striding across the kitchen and rooting through one of the cupboards. He emerged with a packet of biscuits a few moments later, casting an unimpressed look towards Mycroft.

"Do stop being so pathetic, Mycroft," he said. He darted out of the room with John close behind him, scolding him quietly.

Greg and Mycroft watched the pair go in silence. Mycroft turned back to the table after a moment, busying himself with pouring more tea into their cups. His hand shook, just slightly, as he put the teapot down, and Greg reached out to cover it with his own.

"Mycroft, listen. If I made you uncomfortable I'm sorry. I get if you don't want to come swimming any more, that's fine. I just need to know if I should bother sticking around at the pool for the extra hour or not." Greg shrugged, letting go of Mycroft's hand and leaning back in his chair.

"I thought you would no longer wish to continue our association, it appears that I was mistaken," Mycroft replied eventually, twisting a teaspoon between his fingers. Greg knew nervous fiddling when he saw it and he reached out, once again stilling Mycroft's hand with his own.

"So you'll be back for more lessons?" Greg asked after a moment.

"Yes. If you are sure that you do not mind continuing to teach me."

Greg pushed the cups carefully out of the way with his free hand, shifting the hand which covered Mycroft's to a better grip and pulling the other boy towards himself. Mycroft stood easily, moving towards Greg without argument.

"Quite sure," Greg assured him, standing so that they were nose to nose. "Really quite sure," he breathed.

Mycroft nodded once, slowly, his nose brushing Greg's as he did so. Greg watched as the other boy swallowed. His lips parted slightly and he flicked his gaze down towards Greg's mouth, worrying his own lower lip between his teeth.

Greg grinned, shifting just slightly and pressing his lips to Mycroft's, light and brief, before moving back.

"Okay?" he murmured, grin returning when Mycroft smiled back at him.

"Certainly," Mycroft agreed, leaning in for another kiss.


End file.
